


Coalesce

by albabutter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albabutter/pseuds/albabutter
Summary: “Do you remember your mother? Your real mother?”
“Just a little bit. She died when I was very young.”
“What do you remember?”
“Just...images, really. Feelings.”





	

Sending Han was a mistake.

He didn’t understand Ben, couldn’t understand. Blamed it on the Force and Luke and the mystical happenings of the universe that he wanted nothing to do with. But Leia knew better. She knew that Ben’s problem had nothing to do with the Force, or magical beings, or events supposedly beyond their control. The blame rested squarely on their shoulders, inevitable and human. Now that Han was gone, she hoarded it, nurtured it, gave it a nice little home somewhere beside the genteel smile she glued on her face and behind her left eye where all her migraines started. It flourished and festered, and if Luke were capable of acting on his irritation, she was sure he would have taken her by the shoulders and shaken her until one of them snapped. But he wasn’t, and instead he just sighed as usual, and she ignored him like she always had before.

It was a fight they had had a million times in the years after he had defeated Vader. Saved Anakin. Depended on which twin you asked. Control your fear, let go of your anger, embrace the Light and forsake the Dark. She had no interest in the Dark, and she lost her fear the day she lost her home. But Luke didn’t understand that anger was the marrow in her bones, the only thing that kept her upright and stopped her from flying an X-wing into the nearest supernova.

_“It’s a means to an end.”_

_“It’s a path to the dark side.”_

_“Only if I train,” and she knows that the smirk on her face was stolen from Han, but it feels natural, and she’s gratified to see that Luke looks as annoyed as she feels._

_“You’re capable of so much more,” and it’s in moments like these when she remembers that they don’t really know each other, that they’re near-strangers still trying to figure out how they fit together. That Luke only knows her by piecemeal._

_“I’m capable of anything,” and he seems to realize that they’ve reached the crux of their argument._

_“We all are,” he murmurs sagely. And his faith in her would grate on her nerves if it wasn’t for the bond, for the knowledge that he might not have grown up beside her but he had glimpsed the depth of her, the good and the bad, the potential for either. He tries a different tactic._

_“There’s a fine line between justice and revenge.”_

_She snorts. “We’re the resistance, the Rebel Alliance. We’re hardly vigilantes scouring the universe with a score to settle. We’re fighting to prevent, not to avenge.”_

_“Look what Vader did out of fear. What he did out of anger.”_

_“Look what he did out of love,” she counters. “And I have half the fear and twice the anger.”_

_“And the love?”_

_And she very pointedly does not picture Han, but she feels the tips of her ears flush, and the sad smile Luke gives her is enough to calm her down._

_“I have enough, and I’m not giving it up. I’m not taking the chance, Luke. This way it has a purpose, and I can’t hurt anyone.”_

_She’s trying to be reassuring, but the look Luke gives her is so filled with pity that, for a minute, she doubts herself. She’s not in the habit of feeling uncertain and she hates him, just a little bit, for making her feel it for even a second._

* * *

 

When they burn the empty pyre for Han, she can’t help but feel grateful that Luke isn’t there to remind her of her arrogance. He wouldn’t say anything, but he wouldn’t need to. She doesn’t have room for disappointment; Luke will have enough for the both of them. She channels her grief and her fury into commanding and leading, and everyone praises her for her stoicism. Rey is the only one who thinks to wonder if she’s numb, acting on autopilot, and Leia almost feels bad when she brushes her off with a maternal smile and a soft hand on her cheek. There’s a sharp, suspicious look on her face like she doesn’t quite believe her, and Leia makes a note to herself to keep her guard up around Rey. Chewie is the only one who sees her crack. He’s silent when she throws a tantrum in her quarters, lounges in a chair, tinkering with his bowcaster, as she paces and simmers. Her room is always tidy now, and there’s frustratingly little for her to take her anger out on. A glass hits the wall with a satisfying crash, and Chewie huffs at her, completely unimpressed. She rolls her eyes at him and collapses on her bed. It’s too goddamn quiet. Fights with Han were always knock-down drag-outs, loud and obnoxious and satisfying in a way no one else understood. Luke didn’t fight. He wasn’t supposed to as a pacifist Jedi Master, but he also just never felt the need to. Leia blamed his upbringing. He never had to argue. She was encouraged. She was a door-slamming, holo-smashing terror until her father taught her the power of persuasion, the efficiency of logic.

_“Convince me why I should let you go off-world by yourself.”_

_“Because you would be the best father ever and I’d love you forever?”_

_“That’s nice, but I said convince me, not flatter me.”_

_He cut her off before she could reply. “And no, that is not the same thing. Logically break down my argument and persuade me to want what you want. Convince me that what you want is in my best interests.”_

_“That seems underhanded.”_

_“It’s efficient.”_

_“So is stealing your credits.”_

_“That’s a threat.”_

_“It will be good for my personal growth?”_

_“That’s a point.”_

_“I’ll take Threepio.”_

_He nodded. “That’s a compromise.”_

_She rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”_

_Bail laughed and pulled on her braid. “That’s politics.”_

Luke didn’t learn that lesson. He whined and then he learned to live without, and he was probably a better person for it. But Leia was a spoiled princess, literally, and she had argued her way through everything from speeder tickets to galactic peace. So no, Luke didn’t get it. But Han did. Han was an orphan, and his lessons came straight from the black market. Persuade if you’re good, compromise if you’re lucky, and shoot first if you’re in a hurry. Han was good but he was rarely lucky and almost always in a hurry. Of course, when they got together, their tactics had to change. Persuasion didn’t work, logic didn’t matter, and compromise was rarely the point. They insulted when they were good, fucked if they were lucky, and left each other to fume alone when they were in a hurry. And one of them was almost always in a hurry. It was the kind of fucked up, dysfunctional relationship Leia had never been able to have before, and the novelty of it was overwhelming. Luke rolled his eyes when they bickered, frowned when they went too far, and teased them mercilessly over their love bites. He didn’t lecture them about healthy communication. He probably thought it would be a waste of time, and he was probably right. But Luke didn’t have to worry; he could feel how they felt, could sense the affection behind the sniping and the trust that, after every off-world spat, they’d both come home. Eventually.

They always knew where they stood with each other, and Luke knew how to dig past the anger. But Ben was a kid, and they were stuck in their ways, and Leia had a missing brother, an estranged son, and a dead husband to show for it.

* * *

She wasn’t thrilled when she realized she was pregnant. Han wasn’t either, and she loved him a little bit more for being just as uncomfortable with it as she was. The tense silence led to a fight about birth control, which led to her straddling him on a couch, and Han scrambling to bring her closer, hands caught between pushing her clothes off and unpinning her hair. Afterwards, they stayed on the couch, and she listened to his heartbeat slow while he rubbed her back.

_“This was counterproductive.”_

_He snorted. “It’s not like we can make this worse.”_

_Her head moved with his chest, and she tried not to think about how these quiet lulls between them, already so rare, were going to change in a way she wasn’t ready for._

_“This wasn’t part of the plan.” She was being honest, vulnerable , and she braced herself for whatever abrasive comment would fall out of Han’s mouth._

_But all he did was shift her to the side and wrap an arm around her waist._

_“It never is, princess.”_

 

Her belly grew and so did her panic as she waited for her maternal instinct to kick in. Everyone and their mother tried to overload her with their unsolicited advice and useless reassurances. Every time someone told her she was glowing, she felt her blood pressure skyrocket, and more than once she had sent something sailing across the room without thinking about it. Even Luke became unbearable.

“You’re going to be a great mother; you’re the kindest person I know.”

“Everyone you know is either dead or a droid.”

The dirty look he gave her reminded her so much of herself that she immediately burst into giggles, and Luke chalked it up to hormones.

Han tried to be supportive, and she shot him down immediately.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re actually pretty nice when you try. Just not to me.”

“The baby’s half you, you know.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Poor kid. Never stood a chance.”

She slapped him on the shoulder, and he popped her on the butt and didn’t give it a second thought. But Leia’s brain was on hyperdrive. She tumbled over the logistics until she had a practical answer for everything. She had Han, and Luke, and nannies and protective details, and Chewie who was basically all of the above. She had money and clout and a target on her back.

But so had her mother. Both of them really. So fifty-fifty odds.

_“Never tell me the odds.”_

She kept her statistics to herself and resisted the urge to ask Threepio for a more accurate number.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re alive, the bad guys are dead. Don’t know if you noticed, but we won the war sweetheart.”

Han said it playfully enough that she knew he wanted her to smile back at him, but mostly she just wanted to smack him in the head and teach him about power vacuums and how long political climates take to change when they’re spread across a universe. But Han was used to having a target on his back. It was inevitable when you spent your life double-dealing and double-crossing and lying you way through every problem you wound up in. It didn’t phase him. Didn’t phase either of them to be honest. But it was supposed to, now that it wasn’t just her back anymore.

 

* * *

 

Her belly grew, and the med droids told her she was having a boy.

“As long as it’s not twins,” she told them dryly, but her joke was lost on the droids who just stared at her blankly. No sense of humor, but also no judgement either when she accepted the news the same way she would the weather report. Boy, girl, squid, she wasn’t ready for it, so it made no difference to her. Didn’t seem to bother Han either.

_“Whatever you’ve got in there, as long as it can hold a wrench or a blaster, then I’m good.”_

_Luke had smiled and shrugged._

_“Keep him away from sharp objects.”_

_She frowned at him, and he held up his metal hand._

_“Skywalker men tend to lose limbs pretty early in life.”_

She snorted and kissed him on the cheek, and he tickled her side with the metal digits, and for a moment she felt okay. She could still walk into a room and instantly command attention. Attempts to coddle her were met with firm but polite rejection. Attempts to pacify her were shut down immediately with a glare and an aggressive reminder of the chain of command. Newer members of the Resistance avoided her like the galactic plague, but the seasoned veterans stuck around and kept her on her toes. They argued and brainstormed, and the ones who had had children themselves knew when to take her seriously and when she was out of line, and they weren’t afraid to tell her so. It was quite possibly the most productive year of her life. Han tried to bring up her condition during a fight once, and she made sure it was the last time, trapping him in one of the Falcon’s escape pods until he understood that nothing had changed. Or rather, everything had changed, but she needed him to stay the same. Her body was betraying her on every level-- muscle cramps, migraines, constant nausea; she spent more time in the fresher than she did in her own bed. He got the picture and left the worrying and caution to Threepio. She was big enough now that half the time she couldn’t waddle to the fresher fast enough. By the third time Han was forced to clean her vomit out of the Falcon, he was less than sympathetic.

_“Is this punishment? Are you doing this on purpose?”_

_She didn’t bother to move the cold cloth from her face. “Is it working?”_

_She heard the spray of water and tried not to think of her bladder._

_“Yes, completely. Lesson learned. Next time there’s a princess in distress, leave her there, and make the farmboy pay up front.”_

_Chewie snickered in the background, and Leia smiled underneath the towel, her chapped lips cracking a bit. Han cursed as he tripped over the hose to turn it off. She felt him pass by her._

_“From now on, you fly with your own bucket.”_

The bucket was still in the Falcon somewhere, some heinous thing labeled “Your Worship”. An embarrassing reminder of how out of control she’d been. The vomiting ended right around the time Ben had kicked for the first time. The name had been a concession to the only vague father figure all three of them had actually met.

_“Without him, none of us would have met,” Luke said. The bond between them had thrummed happily for a moment, and Leia rested her head on his shoulder. They both turned to Han for confirmation. He just sighed and handed a couple of credits to Chewie who rumbled happily._

_“Ben it is then. Lando will be devastated you know.”_

_Luke snorted. “Lando Solo? He’d be banned from all the cantinas and markets in half the galaxy based on the name alone.”_

Han looked offended, but he didn’t bother to argue. The last name took longer to agree on. Skywalker, Organa, Solo. Each with its own legacy and burden. It was the first time they acknowledged that they were all orphans, and their lines were about to end. They settled on Solo. It was the easiest to spell and hopefully common enough that he could always pretend there was no relation.

* * *

 

Ben Solo was a kicker and a night owl. Leia gave up on sleep and tried to take advantage of the additional eight hours each night, but even then he was relentless. Pacing just reminded her of how much her back hurt. Rubbing her own belly felt odd, but she discovered that if she pressed back on his foot when he pressed forward, he would move around and she could chase him. It was the first, and really only, interaction she’d had with her baby. She was encouraged to talk to him but couldn’t for the life of her think of what to say.

_“It doesn’t matter. Just hearing your voice will be enough.”_

She wasn’t used to just chattering away. She hated small talk, but here she was, trying to conduct a neutral, one sided conversation with her belly. Han at least could be counted on to fill a silence. He talked about anything and everything from ship parts to haggling techniques and war stories. Chewie would lie his head on her bump and softly undulate. Ben seemed to respond best to that, or at least stayed still longer. Luke however seemed to struggle too.

“I can sense him. It’s odd. There aren’t real thoughts or feelings there, of course. But it’s like how I feel you but magnified ten fold.”

Leia tried to control her breathing. “So, he’s Force-sensitive then?”

Luke nodded, a little grimly. “I’d bet my life on it, yes. I’m not sure how all Force bonds work, but I’d assume you’ll have one with him, the same way you have one with me. The same way you did with our mother.”

_“Do you remember your mother? Your real mother?”_   
**_  
_ ** _“ Just a little bit. She died when I was very young.”_

**_“_ ** _What do you remember?”_   
****  
**_“_ ** _Just...images, really. Feelings.”_   
  
Leia felt bile well up in her throat, and she rushed for the fresher as her panic forced its way out. The Force. She’d felt her mother, Padme, through the Force, and Ben could do the same. She was awkwardly curled around the toilet, and distantly she felt Luke rubbing her back. She realized she was crying, and Ben gave a sharp kick. It was a feedback loop. Her body wasn’t her own, and neither were her thoughts. She instinctively felt angry but tried to get it under control.

_“Tell me.”_

_  
_ _“She was very beautiful. Kind, but...sad.”_

 

What would Ben remember? A belly full of bile and resentment and fear?

 

She was mumbling out loud, caught between dry heaving and sobbing. Luke wound himself closer.

“She was human, Leia, and so are you. Padme Amidala was not a perfect, serene wallflower. It’s not possible. She was married to Vader when he was at his most idiotic. You know he probably drove her up the wall. You’re going to be fine. Ben is going to be fine.”

The logic was sound. It wasn’t perfect, but it helped her get off the fresher floor and into her bed where she could cry like an adult. Luke stayed with her. Han was off doing Force knows what, and for once, she was glad he was gone. She didn’t how to explain this to him, and she didn’t want to either. She would hide this new failure the same way she’d hidden cigarettes and failed marks and speeder tickets from Bail--a lot of bravado and misdirection before just brazening her way through the lie. Luke didn’t say anything, just rubbed her back soothingly as she cried herself out. That was always the best thing about Luke. He knew when to shut up.

The last month of pregnancy was the worst. A full month of walking a tight rope inside her own head and falling off of it every day. She could censor her face and her mouth like the best of them--had the best poker face Han had ever seen this side of Coruscant. But her mind was a different story. Every snide remark she didn’t say, every ugly insult she didn’t let slip out stayed inside where she had to chastise herself for even thinking them. It was a depressing month of introspection where she spent the majority of her time wondering how she ever could have thought she was a nice, kind person.

By the end, she was begging for a Bacta tank or a medical coma, and Luke had looked as annoyed as she felt and told her to stop being so dramatic. That had sparked an hour long argument over who was really the more dramatic twin that only ended when Han picked Luke up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the suite.

“I am a Jedi Knight, Jedi Master actually, put me down!”

Han did and slammed the door in his face before locking it. He’d pointed at Leia and told her to wipe the smug look off her face. 

“You’re both ridiculous and dramatic, and I can only pray that whatever gene that is skipped the kid. Hopefully it’s not the one connected to good hair.”

 

Han would have been so disappointed. Leia watched as her son removed his mask, pushing back the cowl, and tried not to sigh as she took in the cape, the entire black ensemble. Nobody had told him that Vader dressed as he did for medical reasons, not theatrics. Clothes could intimidate or persuade or create a persona, an illusion. But these were not clothes; this was a costume. And costumes were for children and men who never understood the distinction. The hair was good, and the looks were probably from Han’s side. But the bearing, the haughty look, the arrogant head tilt. That was all Leia. Some potent combination of Skywalker and Organa. Han had had swagger, but Ben had left before he could learn his own. The limbs were gangly, and he didn’t strut so much as stomp. Thirty years old, and he had all the finesse of a three year old. Han never would have been able to teach him how to charm; he was too awkward for that. But she could have smoothed out the harsh edges, could have helped him turn stoic into pensive and pensive into grace. But it was too late for that. He had presence; she would give him that.

* * *

 

He came into the world the same way any baby did--screaming and red faced. There was nothing to signal that the next Force messiah had been born. Or maybe there was, but Leia was too drugged up to remember anything beyond the pain and Han’s horrified expression before being handed her son. He was small and nondescript and entirely hers. It wasn’t love at first sight. But it was something. Like waking up on a different planet but still being able to find the same star you’d looked at the night before. It wasn’t earth shattering, but the perspective shifted all the same.

 

“ _You’re not the center of the universe, princess.”_

 

He dropped his mask to the ground and strode up to her without hesitation. He had an aggressive confidence that didn’t line up with the furrowed brow or the way his eyes darted across her face. She realized he was trying to impress her with the same uncertain persistence he’d had as a five year old levitating R2-D2 off the ground. He was trying to read her, gage her reaction, understand her, and she wanted to scream.

Didn’t he realize that he already knew her? That he was the only one who had heard her heartbeat from the inside along with every moment of fear and confusion and love? That he’d known her long before she’d known him? She’d been honest to a fault with him because he’d already known the truth. He didn’t have that with his father because his father was a liar. A good man, but a liar nonetheless. A broken promise stung deeper than anything, and who had known better than her that Han dealt almost exclusively in broken promises? She thought her honesty would have been enough, and she had been wrong. She could admit that freely. She wasn’t the 20 year old girl who feared failure more than death anymore. She fucked up, and she’d say it in front of the whole galaxy if that’s what he needed to hear.

But this desperate push to get her attention left her flabbergasted. Didn’t he understand that he had always had her attention? That from the moment the test was positive that he’d taken up half of her brain? Even after he’d been born, there hadn’t been a minute or a day when he hadn’t been on her mind. Luke said it was the Force bond, but she knew better now. She was his mother; it’s just the way it was. She could die or he could die, and he would still be the last thought in her head. No one in the universe could say the same for him. Snoke could twist the context and skew his perspective, but it didn’t change her.

 

He stood before her, and she looked him in the eye without fear. Han used to tell her she was a hard woman to read, and maybe she was for him. But not for her son. She let down every guard that she had, and she felt him do the same.

 

_“Do you remember your mother?”_

  


  


  


  

**Author's Note:**

> Leia-centric one-shot. Was impressed that disney actually committed to the idea that good people don't necessarily make great parents, and wanted to take it a step further that not everyone turns into a perfect maternal being once the strip turns blue.


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